


Wine Stained Silk

by StormBlue



Series: The Blood Archives [4]
Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Agender Character, Asexual Character, Blood Thrall, Chaplain, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormBlue/pseuds/StormBlue
Summary: Patience and Incariel share a night together that quickly turns into passion. Contains a grey asexual, agendered character.
Relationships: Incariel/Patience
Series: The Blood Archives [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653487
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Wine Stained Silk

**Author's Note:**

> This was brought to you by a commissioner who wanted Patience and Incariel to have a little fun time. ;) While their name shall remain anonymous, the story however is considered canon for the series in general. While not necessary to read in order to enjoy To Serve, it's still a nice direction to go in with these characters! 
> 
> Huge thanks for the person who commissioned this to be written! 
> 
> Please note! Patience is revealed to be a grey asexual here and the story includes a good chunk of insight into this and how they feel about sex. Note that Patience, while not actually said in the story, is also agender and uses they/them pronouns. Their genitals are also not described for the same reason!

Very few remnants remained of Diurniel’s old reign, Incariel noted as he carried Patience through the chapel. Less so now that teams of servitors were diligently replacing the rugs and heavy marbled tiling where the old blood just…would not come away. Incariel suspected it was the slain chaplain’s, scattered and stained as if attempting to reclaim the place.

To reclaim Patience.

Incariel held onto the shivering thrall all the harder for it.

Since the meeting his thrall had been…inconsolable. Not panicking or sobbing per say, but a certain silent mood had gripped them. They spoke very little even if spoken to and they refused to let him go. Leaving the meeting hall had resulted in them simply clinging to his armor’s tabard until Incariel decided they were best served by being physically carried. Not that he minded this. Preferred it, in fact. He wanted to make haste. Not out of any sort of disquiet or disrespect towards the chief librarian, although lord Mephiston was not a comfortable person to be around, but out of a sense of urgency to get Patience away from the situation. And to turn himself towards the overlaying mystery that was, apparently, Diurniel and this strange white warrior.

Patience had not seen the latter and the Scholiast had little information on the matter. Walking through a haze of bone dust, servitors and armsmen scattered to get out of his way as the primaris weaved through the repairs. He reached the apse and thus the altar where the most blood had been spilled. Above him, the gilded, domed portrait of Snaguinius was chocked in clouded white. He looked up. Sanguinius’s, his Father’s eyes, stared down at him with that he could only describe as passive judgement. The portrait, for some reason, always appeared to have a different expression depending on where in the apse you stood, or on the mood of the gazer them self.

Incariel’s unsettled mood seemed to reflect more of the same light in his Father’s eyes. As obscured as the rest of it was by that bloody, persistent bone dust. He would need to ensure the servitors cleaned that fresco as well.

Immediately after passing the altar, not daring to look at its smeared surface, the young chaplain took a hard left. This is the motion that seemed to snap Patience out of their fervor of silence.

“…you aren’t taking me back to my cell, master?” They asked quietly.

“No.” Incariel replied instantly. “I do not…trust the integrity of that place anymore.”

He knew what had happened back there. The idea of Patience spending a second more in that cell made him grit his fangs. But without further explanation he powered his way up towards the winding stairs leading into the clerestory where cherubs normally roosted, but he took another hard right and ducked below concealed architecture into a cloistered hall that extended far, far back beyond the chapel itself, into the very bones of the Blood Caller.

Patience had never been down here before. Very few, if any, humans ever have. It was the residence of the chaplains who were stationed here and indeed the atmosphere became very dark. Lit only by flickering rows of braziers shaped like stone skulls, the flames licking from open jaws like tongues. Above him, in the shadowed depths of the low ceiling, had been a bell. It had rang only once in centuries, when the tyranids invaded this part of the ship. It was since taken down and its replacement had yet to find its way here.

But the cloister was not long and terminated in only one chamber. Incariel’s personal cell was blood locked and came open at his urgings. Within, a huge set of buzzing kerosine lamps noisily buzzed to life, spilling light into the otherwise pitch black space. Patience gazed upon it with all of the wonder of a small child, wide eyed and just this side of frightened. It took some encouraging but eventually they dropped from his arms and wondered forth with robed arms extended.

“Why here, master? Aren’t humans not…allowed here?” They squinted at him with what could almost be suspicion. Incariel was nearly amused by it.

“Perhaps.” He allowed. “But I would rather you remain within my sight. You are…” He paused. “Haunted. Not…well. You had barely spoken a word since we left.”

Patience seemed to think on that, describing a slow, uneasy circuit about the chamber. “I have…little to say, I guess.” They looked up, their small, frail eyes apologetic. “Did you want me to talk?”

Within him, Incariel felt a twinge of pity for the poor thrall. This was a breach of professional conduct, he knew, but since the invasion conduct had been anything but certain let alone enforced. “No, I am…merely worried. About you. The scholiast. Lord Mephiston’s…odd behavior. I would attempt to speak to lord Rhacelus of it, but I fear there is little he could or will tell me.”

Patience seemed to deflate slightly, their sweeping black robes becoming all the heavier on their void-born frame. “Not much to tell either, I don’t think.”

Incariel nodded into the dark, agreeing. By then he had passed his thrall and strode towards the back of the chamber, where a recessed tympanum in the black iron wall hid mechanisms that whirled to life with oiled whispers. He took in a rasping breath and backed into the machine. Patience’s sandaled feet scurried over to watch as the arming rack slowly, carefully, disassembled the chaplain’s sacred battle plate piece by piece. Somewhere, hidden in the high vault of the ceiling, a light came on and spilled a shaft of orange-gold across Incariel as his body was uncovered in the chill air. Copper skinned and sheathed only in a black body suit, the chaplain was no less powerful out of armor. Somehow more so.

Having only been in a handful of battles since before the Invasion, his limbs were clean of significant scarring and pockmarked with heavy freckling. Last to leave was his helm, which came free from his gorget with a hiss. His eyes remained closed until the very end, when the neck seals were finally removed. He opened them.

This was the first time Patience had ever seen Incariel without his battle plate and certainly the first time they’d seen his naked face. Eyes as pale and green as fresh jade stared back at them from a face that was clearly not of Baal. Without realizing it, Patience had reached a hand up, as if wanting to touch the seemingly flawless, youthful face thus revealed.

Incariel willingly leaned forward to allow Patience to do just that. Their fingers smoothed across warm, tight skin. Over a thick-boned jaw and high, high cheeks. Focusing, wide-eyed, on the constellation of freckles orbiting the jade planets of his eyes. Sparse of hair, the Primaris was bald and severely clean-shaven save for short, shaped brows and lashes that were almost uncomfortably red. Certainly a genetic trait from his heritage that not even Sanguinius’s sacred seed could alter. Patience shivered.

“I’ve never seen your face before…”

Incariel smiled, the curve of his lips fuller than expected. “Very few ever have.”

“Not since the…” Patience began, but stopped, their words seeming to trip in their throat.

They felt Incariel speak, his words a deep rumble. “Not since the Indominus Crusade, yes. Even then I was earmarked to be what I am. I could…never understand why, but perhaps that will come with age.”

Patience shook their head, reluctantly letting him go as the chaplain made to stand. It gave the thrall a chance to look around, but their master was already striding forth to the back of the chamber where his armor was wrapped in a mechanical embrace. He ratcheted several skull-topped levers and the entire tympanum hinged on its vertical axis, opening a way to an unlit chamber beyond.

“Come.” He ordered, and Patience scrambled to obey.

It was pitch black for only a moment. Sensors in the black wood flooring detected pressure and lumes flickered to life. The same orange-gold that illuminated Incariel during the disarming ritual brought the room into detail.

A bedroom.

A fully stocked and well appointed bedroom. Patience had always thought the sleeping quarters of their masters were austere affairs. A simple cell with a stone cot, if even that in many cases. They did not expect a mattress sized for demigods with bloodwood furniture to match. Certainly not the damask lined walls, the plush velvet and silk bedding, nor the pair of haloed servo skulls that drifted down from the eves to offer Incariel a fresh robe and a goblet of wine. 

“Was this…always here?” Patience asked stupidly, on the cusp of muttering more questions.

It was then that the chaplain actually laughed, causing the thrall to blush with embarrassment.

“Yes, and no.” He replied simply, shrugging into the black robes but leaving the hood down. “Diurniel enjoyed furniture and wine as I do, but I am rather…larger. New ones had to be built to accommodate my frame.”

“I’ve never been in an actual bed before…” Patience stared at the comforter, which was puffier than any porridge or bread they’d ever had. Their own residence had a bunk cot which they shared with Vigilance, but a full bed?

“Would you like to?” Incariel winked.

Patience hesitated for only a bare second before they launched onto the comforter, face first. It was almost unbearably soft, their body sinking into the padded fabrics so much it was a struggle to get free. Patience could hear the chaplain chortling from across the room but paid him no mind. Their mind was drifting off, a mess of exhaustion and wonder.

When Patience opened their eyes again, they didn’t realize they’d fallen asleep at all. What greeted them was not their master, but the servo-skull baring a small, human sized glass of wine. Blurry-eyed, Patience accepted it without thinking, then immediately coughed at the taste. They had never sampled anything but non-alcoholic communal wine before and the pungent burn of something truly strong had them waking up almost instantly. Whining, the servo-skull snatched the glass from their hands before anymore wine could splatter on the fine linens. Or on their robes.

Unexpectedly, Incariel stirred from the other side of the bed, propped up on one elbow with one green eye staring. Apparently they woke him up. “Mmm?”

Patience gasped, blushing and choking. “I-It was wine!”

Their master raised a brow, but grunted a moment later. “Water, then.”

With an irritated buzz, the skull fluttered away and came back with plain water, which Patience all but tackled the drone to get to. By then Incariel was grumbling like a lion, his elbow slipping out from under him so his head could flop against the pillows. It was ridiculous seeing a man of his size looking grouchy at being woken up from a nap of all things. Let alone with a thrall.

Patience rubbed the tears from their eyes and grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t know I was asleep.”

Incariel already had his eyes closed again. “You were tired. We both were.”

“Let me rephrase that. I didn’t know you were asleep.” And in bed with them. If Patience were any less professional, a scandalous little smirk might have appeared. When Incariel didn’t move or reply after a moment Patience began to speak again, yammering and trying to crawl out of bed with some effort, but a tree-thick arm hooked them about the waist, hauling them close.

“No.”

“No?” Patience breathed, amused and more than a little surprised.

“No.”

“No.” Patience relented with no reluctance at all, going limp against the chaplain. “But I’m covered in wine.” They tried, just one more time.

Teasing, if they wanted to be honest. Badly so.

But Incariel answered only by gently shoving Patience’s head under the covers, wrestling them into a more comfortable position in which to be held. Accepting their fate, the thrall relaxed all the more. Even if they weren’t tired anymore. In fact they wondered if Incariel was actually sleeping, if he wasn’t just using this as an excuse to have someone around. Maybe he was more worried than he wanted to admit, after they had vanished for nearly three days…they put the image of Diurniel’s walking ghost from their mind, nuzzling further against Incariel’s sandstone body.

He was…naked but for a loin cloth. At some point while Patience slept he’d shucked everything but the most necessarily article of clothing to maintain decency. So when he pulled them up against his abdomen, the thrall experienced nothing but raw skin and muscle, the color of a copper coin and cooler than expected. It had the same give as tire rubber without the texture. Strangely…comfortable. Solid. Very, very solid. Had this been anyone else save for maybe Vigilance, Patience might have been nervous. Yet being this close to Incariel felt somehow natural. So too was the emotional connection.

Which was…rare. They had lovers before, but the infatuation and the physical congress that followed had always been rooted in feelings rather than sexual attraction, per say. Only later had Patience learned it was a form of asexuality. By no means were they repulsed by the idea of mating, but the thought of it normally didn’t cross their mind when it came to love. Soon, they were beginning to wonder if that was what Incariel felt too. If there was a connection between them that he wanted to see fulfilled somehow?

How would they even begin to bring that up with him when he woke? The question made them fidget slightly, but Incariel shifted again and they became lightly pinned to his leather-tough chest. Patience huffed. Breathing was still possible but they felt like a stuffed toy. Oh, dear.

“My lord…” They whispered. “At this rate you might want to do more than hug me.” 

It sounded innocent enough. Just a hint of what they were thinking, or what they wanted to try. But in case Incariel didn’t quite get the meaning, Patience smoothed their hand down his jawline. It was like stroking polished marble without the chill of stone. Patience’s heart was thumping harder now. Surely he could hear that?

The chaplain stirred once more after a few seconds. “Are you considering…?”

Patience, red faced, grinned. “M-Mating with you? I think we both need it.”

From beneath the covers Incariel’s expression remained unreadable but with agonizing slowness he sat up, letting the silk sheets skitter off his bulk. He released the thrall in the same motion, clearing his mind of sleep haze with a massive inward breath. For a moment Patience thought he might get off the bed and leave, but then he exhaled, settling into a confused if somewhat curious look. 

“I am not sure how we would even start.”

“H-Have you been with anyone before?”

“Not a human, no.” He admitted, closing his eyes to a far off memory. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The thrall would have huffed had it been anyone else, but their master had a good point. The loin cloth, thickly printed with red satin and fixed to his waist with gold clasps, left…little to the imagination as far as what his size was. Larger, likely, than the old breed? Not that Patience had ever been witness to their particular size either…

Thinking, Patience leaned back and considered, but the only thing their mind could form was… “…lots of foreplay and lube I imagine?”

Incariel slithered out another chuckle. “Perhaps. Sadly, I do not have lube.”

Well, it wasn’t a hard edged no at least. That was something. And when Patience leaned into him he all but welcomed a wondering touch to his arm. “And it doesn’t need to be, uh, penetrative although I would very much like that…” Their eyes wondered to his silk-clad waist. “I do like giving as much as receiving, if you get what I mean.”

This time the chaplain laughed, motioning for the servo-skull to serve him another goblet of wine as he regarded Patience with amused affection. “You’ve gotten bold since I first met you. When was that, just a year ago?”

Had it really been just last year? Patience had the idea that Incariel belonged here since they had. But the reality was that no fewer than three chaplains had taken up residence here since lord Diurniel’s violent death. Patience was still being raised by other thralls, adoptive parents they had never bothered to remember, when the first of them had officially inherited the chapel and therefor, inherited Patience. To their shame they barely recalled the Blood Angel’s name. They were ten at the time and all they could recall of his face were harsh lines and a voice to match. Not unkind, but not someone a child could have approached. They saw him only infrequently and they were still too young to perform their full duties. 

Then he was replaced. Needed elsewhere or otherwise not judged suitable for the sacred ship. Then one more came and was gone too. The last, the last…had been Astorath himself. He had frightened Patience something terrible despite his placid attitude towards them. They spoke extensively and indeed Patience did their duties to him well, but the High Chaplain had too deep a role in the chapter to remain on just this ship. He had moved on and Incariel took his place. 

“It has been, hasn’t it?” Patience wondered breathlessly, struck by the force of recall for a moment. “It feels like you’ve been here forever.”

Something about that touched Incariel, but he said nothing of it, instead reaching out to stroke Patience with heartbreaking delicacy. “If you wish to mate with me, I would like to do so.”

Their attempts at foreplay melted into fumbling and moaning. Incariel was indeed massive, both in body and in girth and the thrall struggled to properly accommodate him in their mouth… 

Frustrated, Patience handled his rapidly hardening cock with both hands, tongue running along the underside in what they were sure was graceless passion. It twitched and danced in their hands, requiring more than a little effort to keep it still. In all honesty Patience was very tempted to simply…shove their mouth upon it. And would have, had they the confidence to navigate it around their teeth. “Ugh, by the Blood!”

Snarling, Incariel all but grabbed them, shoving them into the sheets with an aroused grunt. He was panting, fangs poking through his gums. Patience could hear the crunch of bone as they extended. “I think I enjoy what you’re doing a little too much.”

The thrall actually laughed, but could hardly deny their own arousal. “I didn’t realize! I told you I’m not good at this!”

“You don’t need to be.” He rumbled. In truth he had indeed needed this… “Show me what I need to do for you.”

Patience really wanted to say just stick it in them, but then they valued being able to not be in pain in the morning. “Can you use your fingers? I’m pretty sure…I’m already wet.”

Incariel moved his face away, much to the thrall’s dismay but their voice became a mess of moans once Incariel’s fingers found their way inside of them. His other hand could be felt pulling their robes off, chucking them off the bed. He was not particularly good at this either, but then he didn’t need to be too. Patience was far too aroused not to enjoy this, and they were glad Incariel was apparently feeling the same. 

When they lifted their face off the pillows enough to glance over a shoulder, they could see Incariel was gritting his fangs, cock at full bloom. “Throne, you look good like that.”

“I am…trying not to go so fast.” He admitted, seeming to deflate slightly even if his cock was doing the exact opposite. “It is taking a lot of effort to just not…release.”

Patience bit their lower lip. Incariel had not stopped gently ruining their insides with his fingers. “It’s really hot. If you need to fuck me, please do so. I’ll be fine. I promise!”

Perhaps they should have been a little more…romantic about the request but Incariel seemed to not care. His face was a mask of predatory bliss as he carefully grabbed Patience’s hips and mounted them. The pressure was immense but the chaplain’s fingers had done their work and the sheer arousal swiftly dulled the pain to a slow, churning burn that ended up moving to just the right places as Incariel sunk into their depths. He had to stop at some point. There was a bit of resistance and not even Patience wanted to take it any further than that. He let out a sound like a hunting tiger. It was hungry and considerate. Barely restrained. “Am I hurting you?”

“Of course not. Throne, it feels…fantastic.” Patience moaned, keeping their face smooshed into the pillows with their fingers gripping the sheets. “B-But let me do all the moving, if you please…”

He was more than agreeable to that, removing his hands from their waist and letting the thrall rise to their hands and knees. The position was a little difficult and they were wholly unused to being this full…

But once they started to rock into his pelvic curve the pleasure quickly became almost too much. He was perfect. Girthy and so terribly filling. They wished they could sheath him fully but this was plenty. And by the Blood, they could feel his response. The pulse of his hot cock against their entrance and the thick kneading of the firm head…

They barely heard it when Incariel suddenly groaned. But they did feel the rush of warmth blooming from his cock. It was intoxicating, honestly. More so than any wine. Powerful in way that a thrall of their stature was not used to. It encapsulated them in ways they could not explain. 

As Incariel came inside of them, he fell forward, supported on either side with both hands. Just inches from their head. He almost tore the sheets as he scrabbled and came apart, still spurting and thrusting. If the feeling of his cock releasing within them did not get Patience off, the way he growled out their name did. It was a hard orgasm. Patience clenched around his cock, screaming and crying out his name and spilling their own fluids. It took their breath away and made them dizzy, sore and so terribly, terribly satisfied. 

When it was over they did pass out for but a moment before the blood rushed back to their head. By then Incariel had shivered and slipped out, dripping and panting. The moment they were released Patience slumped fully to the bed, muttering and whimpering loudly. For a moment Incariel though he might have hurt the thrall, but then Patience rolled over, shamelessly naked and sweating. Looking like they’d just seen the Emperor rise from His throne. 

“Oh, shit!” They gasped.

Incariel, unable to help himself, laughed. “You needed that as much as I did.”

“Ow. Damn it.” Was all Patience could say. They were grinning again but their groin and backside hurt. “Maybe we should have gone slower.”

“I don’t think either of us could have done so.” 

“Indeed not.” They groaned, attempting to flip back over and crawl to him. Their legs were weaker than they thought and their arms tingled. “And maybe next time I need to pick a better position…and learn how to properly suck a cock, for once.” 

“You are very chatty and bold for someone named Patience.”

“Oh, sod off!” Now it was the thrall’s turn to laugh. “Maybe next time you should get me drunk, if you don’t want to hear my yammering.”

Incariel shook his head, mirthful as he gently shoved Patience and then the servo-skull who had up until now been sitting on its charging dock. When Patience mentioned the word drunk it had taken that as a chance to try and serve them more wine. 

But, realistically, Patience was already fairly drunk on postcoital high. “Damn it all, I think I love you.”

Incariel paused, but reached over to them, their hand laying across their naked chest in a way that was almost possessive. Protective. “I think I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There will be another chapter to this short spin off, as it was with Curiosity. Unlike Curiosity however, this will contain a good bit of plot that ties harder into the main story line. Stay tuned and please leave a comment if you like! ;)


End file.
